Maybe you have seen the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS) report released in August. The 2016 National Survey of Fishing, Hunting and Wildlife-Associated Recreation (National Overview) is the latest of these surveys. At the behest of state wildlife agencies, USFWS has been sponsoring the survey every five years since 1955. This is one of America’s most important wildlife-related recreation databases and probably the definitive source of information concerning participation and spending associated with hunting, fishing and other ways of recreating and enjoying wildlife across the country.

The survey is based on thousands of interviews of Americans who participate in fishing, hunting, wildlife watching (birders and other), and shooting/archery. In the last decade, fisher numbers have increased from 30 million to almost 36 million; in 2016 those anglers spent $46 million on gear, trips and so on. In 2016, there were 86 million wildlife watchers (45 million of whom were bird observers), up from 71 million in 2006. These watchers spent nearly $76 million related in one way or another to their activities. 2016 was the first year of surveying target shooters and archers, and the study found 32 million firearm target shooters and 12.4 million archers – about 15% of them were under the age of 16.

The number of hunters across the U.S. actually fell from 12.5 million in 2006, and 13.7 million in 2011, to 11.5 million in 2016. Related expenditures also dropped from $24.7 million in 2006 and $36.3 million in 2011 to $25.6 million in 2016. Therein lies the basis for calls to action from hunting and conservation organizations nationwide, as the numbers raise major concerns about funding for wildlife and habitat – and their future.

One of the organizations leading a call to action is the Theodore Roosevelt Conservation Partnership (www.trcp.org). This outfit celebrates all kinds of outdoor recreation and pushes activities which support public lands and responsible natural resource policies. In the early September online issue of The Roosevelt Report, the first article was “A Confirmed Decline in Hunter Participation Should Be a Call to Action.” The first line was “It’s time for our community and decision makers to get serious about R3 [recruitment, retention and reactivation] efforts, adequate conservation funding, and smart policies that enhance hunters’ opportunities afield.”

Whit Fosburgh is president of the TRCP, and he’s been calling attention to the dire implications of community and wildlife leaders not seriously supporting the recruitment, retention, and reactivation of hunters, as well as other efforts to reverse the loss of revenue. R3 efforts for fishing and boating have been quite successful thanks to a funding provision in the Dingell-Johnson Act (aka, the Federal Aid in Sport Fish Restoration Act) that allows a small percentage of excise tax revenues from fishing and boating equipment to be used for recruitment and retention programs. On the other hand, The Pittman-Robertson Act (P-R) created the excise tax on guns, ammunition, and archery equipment. The funds are apportioned to state wildlife agencies to be used for a variety of projects related directly to wildlife, conservation efforts and shooting programs, but P-R does not permit using the funds for R3 activities. The apparent loss of hunting-related revenue means fewer P-R funds for managing state wildlife and conservation programs; thus, the call to action.

Now, TRCP and other groups are beating the drum to modernize P-R so that the funds can promote hunting the same way Dingell-Johnson funds promote fishing and boating. These efforts also support modernizing hunter education and licensing systems, as well as expanding access and improving the quality of the hunting experience with better habitat and more wildlife.

A number of voices are calling for better federal funding for conservation and a new Farm Bill that enhances conservation efforts on private ground and supports landowners in enrolling more ground in public access programs. An increasing number of citizens and organizations are speaking to the critical need for sportsmen and women to continue being engaged in the public process of planning for management on America’s multiple-use public lands, as well.

See the 2016 survey for yourself at wsfrprograms.fws.gov/; just click on the survey’s link. For more on what individual hunters across the country are seeing in their own states, go to www.trcp.org, click on Blog and search for “usfws survey.”

So all this is about national patterns. Where does Washington State sit in these concerns about loss of hunters and hunting-related revenue?

Stand by… Next week, we’ll check on what’s happening in our own backyard.

For a few years there, a while back, I found myself fretting about young hunters, and that “future of hunting” stuff we so often cuss and discuss. Where were the youngsters? Why weren’t they out there with parents, grandparents or some adult mentor? Now, I’m thinking maybe it was just some sort of cyclical pattern.

Most everywhere I looked over the weekend, there was a kid on the ground, walking through the woods with an adult, or salivating over firearms and ammo while his dad made a purchase at one or another of our local sporting goods hot spots. A couple homeys were in a happy conversation about how – finally – their son and daughter were old enough for an armed walk in the woods with the big guys. Maybe I can relax a bit.

Monday, Homey Bill Boyum was all smiles on the phone. His grandson, Nate, had finally reached the right age/stage for a deer hunt. Nate finished his Basic Hunter Education class (and demonstrated that he could safely handle and accurately fire a proper rifle) just in time to go get his first deer license. Grandpa and Nate hunted some friendly ground out of Goldendale, saw plenty of deer, and came home with the kind of stories we hunters have been sharing for millennia. Tagged deer? Hmmm… I may have forgotten to ask. Does it matter?

Over the decades, I’m guessing that the vast majority of my most memorable hunts have involved armed walks afield with my sons or daughters – my Hucklings. Three of them became hunters of some note, and the rest eagerly looked forward to tagging along on our various hunting trips. I’ve been asked many times how I got them so connected to the rhythms of nature and food and sustenance, and my answer is nearly always “All I did was create a space for them to interact at their own pace, and they did the rest.” I was there when Tim, Michelle and Edward first made meat for our family, identifying and filling some small niche in the scheme of life on our planet.

A decade or so ago, someone sent me a link to one of rocker Ted Nugent’s essays, “Inspire a Child into the Wild.” While I wasn’t deeply into his music, I had long been, and still am, a huge fan of the work he has done to live his passion for hunting and kids and the earth. I can’t say it any better than Ted did in that essay, so I submit some excerpts for your reading pleasure.

“(T)here was no formula that I adhered to. Rather, it was a deeply thought out process along the way in order to optimize the chances that they would pursue this outdoor lifestyle with me, that has brought me so much enjoyment, excitement, happiness and gratification. All life comes from beyond the pavement, and our call to stewardship of these precious life giving renewable resources runs strong and deep. For if a father fails to bring these lessons of reality and elements of accountability into his family’s life, what good has he accomplished?

“Certainly, my exhilaration upon merely seeing game is contagious. I have made it a point to raise my family on wonderful, game rich wildground, thereby maximizing the sightings that can be shared and talked about together. The first word out of my kid’s mouths has always been ‘deer,’ as they pointed out the window or along a trail together with mom and dad. Watching wildlife shows on TV together as a family and exploring easy access wildground as often as possible brings the dynamic of wildlife encounters to the forefront of children’s young minds. As wildlife habitat faces the growing curse of development and destruction, these beyond the pavement areas for introduction are becoming harder and harder to find and access. This is why efforts and programs to save wildground are so important today. JOIN DU, RMEF, Pheasants Forever, Trout Unlimited, Quail Unlimited and any other organization you can afford. Habitat progress is job One!

“Most importantly, I did not push my children to hunt. I always made it available to them, even gently prodding and encouraging them to join me everytime I went afield, but never to the point of force or pressure. I shared the thrills of each and every hunt in stories and photos, and made it a point to let them know every night at the dinner table, ‘you should have been there! It was really cool!’

“Over the years, I tried to get them to join me on the easier maneuvers. Break them in gently. Comfortable temperatures and conditions were always more alluring than stormy, wet, cold and nasty mornings in the duckblind! But I did make it a point to let them experience the joys of ma nature’s wrath as well. There is nothing more wonderful than coming back to a warm, cozy cabin
or lodge or tent, wet, cold and beat, changing into fresh, dry clothes and sipping a steaming bowl of soup or chili around a roaring fireplace or campfire. That is heaven on earth and everybody enjoys it immensely. They always gaze into the fire and hear the call.”

Find a number of Ted’s essays, along with links to his kids’ outdoor camps and his family’s adventures at www.tednugent.com.

So, here’s to all those parents, grandparents, and adult mentors bringing along the young hunters who will secure our outdoor future!

[Photo of Dad Jim congratulating Huckling Tim on his first deer…]

Hunting rules, dates and ways may be evolving, but opening day anticipation has continued unabated. There was a time when deer seasons opened across the West, followed by elk season, then upland birds and waterfowl – some variance from state to state, but each season had its set time, and deer was nearly always first. Today, in efforts to manage both people and big game in various places and conditions, we have big game archery season openers, black powder openers, antlerless season openers, and so on and on. Yet, there remains one premiere opening day – tomorrow – for our statewide general modern rifle deer season. This one attracts the largest number of hunters (right at 100,000 here in Washington) and causes the largest number of pre-opener sleepless nights.

That toss-and-turn excitement builds early. A couple days ago, I watched a handful of men and women waiting to purchase licenses, ammo and other gear at the counter in Bi-Mart. A hunter in camo hauled supplies to the checkout stand up front, while the small group waiting at the counter chattered excitedly about deer and their habits, about the pleasures of making delicious healthful meat, and about family traditions. These were scenes frozen in time.

Then, too, of course, several friends and homeys stopped me around town this week. We did all the normal catch-ups, passed a few words about gardens and projects and pet peeves, and eventually got to more serious business. “So… Where ya heading Saturday morning?” “Found a spot with any nice bucks?” “Thought about that area up the Umtanum? (Or Teanaway? Or Colockum? Or…?)” Literally translated, this is “Are you going deer hunting this weekend?”

One of my more literary-minded colleagues engaged me in a deep and philosophical conversation about one’s innate need for deer hunting. To reinforce his argument, I may have confessed to youthful conniving, feigning of illness and – yes – even lying to get out of work and go deer hunting. For a time-stopping moment, we delved into the deeper meanings of Will Shakespeare’s classic question “To be or not to be?” (There is no doubt in my mind that Will was a deer hunter, but not for mule deer.) Then there is the René Descartes (or somebody, no doubt) classic proof of existence: “Je chasse, danc je suis” (“I hunt, therefore I am”). This has been my mantra since childhood.

I still remember sitting in our under-self-construction house in East Wenatchee, Washington, (on ground now under a giant Costco store) when The Old Man finally told me that I was old enough for deer hunting up the Little Chumstick, out of Leavenworth. I would carry his old J.C. Higgins bolt-action 12-gauge. I’d been shooting birds and rabbits with it for years, but this was the big time; now it would be loaded with slugs and we’d hunt Uncle Ed’s place. I had crawled and hiked those canyons and hills as long as I could remember, and the thought of finally hunting them with my father and my uncle was too delicious for words. I could hardly sleep the night before, tossing and turning with intermittent dreams of big bucks stepping out of the brush and into my down-the-barrel bead sight. The taste of the predawn air of that first opener has never left me. We made no deer meat that morning, but finally I had stories of my own to share over lunch about the big buck somehow getting the slip on me in the deep box canyon.

Over the decades, I opened big game seasons with dads, uncles, cousins and buddies. I have missed very few of them – a couple when I was in the Air Force in Korea, and maybe another in Kansas at graduate school. As my own kids came of age, I watched excitement and anticipation eat away at them the night before their first trips as hunters. I still marvel at the awkward confidence they put on when they first stepped afield with a rifle slung over their shoulder. And I still toss and turn a bit the night before the first big game hunts of the fall.

Tomorrow is the first day of our general deer season. Around 100,000 of our closest friends will be afield at daybreak, in pursuit of the wily deer. Essentially, this means that 100,000 men, women, boys and girls across the state will be having trouble sleeping tonight. Through the entire history and future of hunting, I doubt that can ever change.

Speaking of not changing, hundreds and hundreds of us will find our way to the 30^th Annual Hunters Breakfast at the Swauk Teanaway Grange on Ballard Hill Road (signs at SR 970 and Teanaway Road). Many of us will do a morning hunt, refuel on ham, eggs and hotcakes (with homemade apple butter, coffee and orange juice), then head out for the rest of our opening day afield. Busloads of seniors and adventurers from the West Side will be there, too, wishing us all well.

This is an important weekend; Je chasse, danc je suis. (Even Will Shakespeare understood that.)

There are things one simply must do. Former homey Kirk Johnson and I scheduled a couple days of end-of-September fishing to the mouth of the Klickitat River. We’ve fished this section of the Columbia River a couple times in past falls, always catching some nice fish. Then, too, my best salmon ever was a 2001 fall fish I hooked with buddy Earl English. That day on the big river, at the mouth of the Wenatchee, a sure snag on a passing boat turned into a half-hour battle with a 47-inch long 40-pound king. Everything considered, Kirk and I decided that a couple fall days of fishing would be a step toward evening up some missed salmon trips over the eighteen months.

We would fish the Columbia River aboard a couple of the sleds Shane Magnuson operates in his Upper Columbia Guide Service (509-630-5433). Last Friday, we fished with Chinook Whisperer Cody, and on Saturday climbed onto Shane’s sled to celebrate his final 2017 day of fishing the Bonneville area of the big river, before moving up to the Hanford Reach. We’d never fished with Cody, but we were pretty sure that, if he was working for Shane, he knew his business. Anyhow, the way Kirk and I had it figured, you can’t beat time on a boat with a couple good friends for a great last hurrah for the 2017 salmon fishing.

Then, too, there is always that stuff about never missing at least one chance a year to fish with Shane. I’ve been fishing with the guy since he was a mere boy, working at Hooked on Toys in Wenatchee. During our first trip – catching lake trout (lakers or mackinaw) on Lake Chelan – the kid was in the midst of an inner debate about whether to accept a full-boat golf scholarship to the University of Arizona or follow his heart into the fishing business. We have a history.

Edward, last of the Hucklings, through many annual 3:30 a.m. “Shane” trips down the Icicle or onto the Columbia, practically grew up fishing with him. On one of those Icicle trips, Shane and Edward literally called each fish we caught moments before it took our bait or lure. That morning, we had our limits of Icicle Chinook and were off the river before 8. Edward, now a full-blown stuntman in LA (among other gigs, he doubles teenager Chip on Fox’s “The Mick”), still laughs about that morning and always sends regards to “Big Brother Shane.”

Over the twelve and more years, various friends and family members and I have caught dozens of lake trout and kokanees off one or another of Shane’s boats on Lake Chelan – and nearly as many salmon and steelhead on one or another river. Once, when he was tied up, he arranged a salmon chase on the Columbia for me and 13-year-old semi-adopted son Jonathan – Edward’s kid brother – with beer-drinking Blue-Pill Rick. Until I suggested he change the subject, Rick spent our early trolling time on the Columbia below Wells Dam bemoaning the fact that his wife would only allow him one-half a Viagra tablet at a time. We caught some nice fish, and Jonathan and I and his dad (my old buddy Jim) enjoyed some later educational and humorous conversations about that never to be forgotten trip. (Shane’s working relationship with Blue-Pill ended that day.) With a history like that, you just have to go hang out with Shane.

Thus, on Thursday a week ago, Kirk and I set up my pop-up tent camper at the Lewis and Clark RV Park near Bonneville Dam.

Friday at 6:15 a.m. we shook hands with King Whisperer Cody and climbed aboard his sled. We were quickly out onto the Bonneville Pool to share the salmon chase with a hundred or so of our new best friends, in boats of almost every size and description. Among the boats was one guide in a drift boat rowing-trolling for his two clients (apparently he’d planned a float down the Klickitat, but there were no fish there and this was Plan B). By 6:30 we were fishing. Former Homey Kirk was first into fish, quickly landing a shiny king. Shortly thereafter, I caught one. And so it went until we had our four fish, ranging from 20 to 20 pounds. (Drift boat guy was finding fish, too.) By 9:30, the three of us were having breakfast at the little mom and pop Café in town, talking life and fishing.

6:30 the next morning we scrambled aboard Shane’s sled for a fish chase just below Bonneville Dam. As we joined the flotilla – 20 or 30 other boats of eager fishers – the rain fell as expected. Undaunted, Shane dodged raindrops and other boats as we patiently worked the slow bite. Kirk had the warmest hand. While we lost a couple nice fish, we were only a fish or so short by late morning. In the on and off rain showers, we laughed and talked and caught up on our lives and fished. Wet or not, it was a fine day on the river.

By 1:30, we had the fish we came after and headed back toward a dry vehicle, and the take-down of a wet tent trailer. Shane went off to secure his boats and gear for his (by now) fishing the Hanford Reach, and Kirk and I headed for our homes.

We had a great couple days, and a terrific last hurrah for our 2017 salmon fishing. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to handle some last-minute prep for deer and elk hunting seasons.

You gotta love fall – and the abundant blessings of our outdoor life in Paradise.